"Almost Victor, almost," He said as he entered the room to empty the trash and replace the small plastic bag. One earbud dangled down his black button-up so that when called he could at the very least acknowledge that someone was talking, figuring out from there if it was he they were looking for; the other quietly playing music into his right ear. To a certain degree we both think that the other is a bit crazy, but not the crazy that has one comfortably hugging one’s self in a white coat. No the crazy that I have been experiencing for the last several months. The kind of crazy that keeps one from being too distracted(unless it is a good distraction(she once reminded me of that(it was a brief love affair and she knew more than I at the time that it wasn’t going to last. It still high five myself about it, as I am sure she does.))) The kind of crazy that makes you feel like you can almost taste it. I once smelled, quite literally, the other side of crazy. But today is not the day to talk about that. "Almost, Victor, almost…." I believe him.